Archive for June, 2013

When we were three and four

We tried to see where our fathers were,
as we were standing in the mud of the beach,
and I would have taken your hand
but that seemed too intimate.
Your father and his ship at that time
was somewhere at the Mediterranean,
mine at the Baltic, but we were convinced
we could see them there, over the dark blue
of the North Sea, as some ships were passing by.

We waved, you and me. You called for your father.
He shall bring me a doll, so you said.
I could not say I was looking forward
to seeing him again, he was not even a memory.
Like all things in nature, the fathers came and went
and there was no telling when.
Our feet had sunk in the mud so we freed them
and we ran back to the towels and arms of our mothers,
their red bathing suits as reliable beacons.

Crossing

Cold fish with cold eyes swim through these waters
where green hair is waving under the surface,
fantasy shaped plankton feeds the species
as we cross the sea by ferry reading books.

We don’t know of what goes on beneath us,
our books give us a world to pass our time.
Cold fish with cold eyes swim underneath us.
They live in the bowed ribs of drowned sailors.

Green hair is waving there under the surface,
and we have our coffee, a sandwich, fruit.
Discussing the chapters we read, we smile.
Cold fish with cold eyes swim underneath us.

The repeating engine drum makes us sleep,
while in the ribs of dead sailors fish swim,
the table is trembling, a spoon falling,
some coffee is spilled. We arrive in port.

Where are you going to on the mainland?
I dare not ask you now we are polite.
We had our coffee together, we read.
Once! We knew more of eachother. Arriving.

Cold fish with cold eyes stay behind down there,
we don’t know of what goes on beneath us,
discussing the books we have read, we smile
as we embark the ship. We know nothing.

Alchemy

I try to kill the pain with something chemical
that I can not pronounce nor swallow well.
I only know if I take all the pills at once, I’m dead.

Someone has mixed some kinds of poison
to make a medicine, or at least he calls it so; imagine
the hunchbacked alchemist in his moldy dungeon.

The toad he must have tried it on went all purple just before it died.
The crazy alchemist is laughing. Among the seven
other pills I take is now his magic blending in, from my stomach to my guts.

All is entering my blood. A dead toad’s resting on the slimy stony stairs,
the alchemist makes potions now of a lizard’s eye. It’s night.
Meanwhile the pain’s not going anywhere, like any hero it will not die but fight.

Blue for ever

The sky over the trees says nothing in this blue,
no angels swim there, only birds but they are silent,
I might have hoped for something biblical to show
but there is only blue eternity and flocks of geese.
How can we think that gods live there? Why would they?

Maybe hell is blue; I can’t see heaven in this pool of nothing
where clouds go when they float out of our sight,
dissolving, and stop existing over our heads.
They die and do so just like that. They are the big bang in fast forward.
Even though a tree lives longer than a cloud, the gods moved up into thin air.

I have seen faces, ships and castles fade this way.
I can not understand the reason for this empty sky then.
Where does it start, how far is always and how far away from me
should I be looking for a god. For a reason to think twice.
Where have they gone to? Out of the blue our myths began.

An angel comes to tell a virgin she’ll be mother of God’s son,
and where is Zeus hiding in the mean time? The sky is always blue
behind the clouds. We have no business asking for a sign I’m told.
A goose falls dead in front of me. Out of nowhere, from above.
His feathers move in hauling wind, although the life is gone.

A personal note

I shall not be so arrogant to say life treats me wrongly, such whining!
Life is as is, and pain is part of life. We all suffer
one way or another. But I do dream, of love, of friends,
of how I should dance over meadows. How I would live, if possible.

A mountain doesn’t feel such pain or joy. Perhaps
an avalanche won’t bother him. A mountain’s view is boring.
I am no mountain. I am, you are; the mountain is not, but a rock.
I can go, I have a choice to change, to feel, to give.

Life is a gift and I give too. Maybe it was too little.
Now I can wait for what comes next,
or maybe do some more exploring. Like a mountain
I can wait forever though, to find kindness in a voice.

What makes me go is friendship more so over passion,
a perfect body is a body now that lives. I changed my values
and I noticed so have you. Life treats us well.
It is the mountain who should be complaining.

Away (a memory)

23juni13 004

I was away from love so long
but somehow love caught up with me,
a walk nearby a foaming sea,
a kiss that means we can’t go wrong.

For now I’ll have to wait and see,
you go away, so much is sure,
who knows what future there will be
and all we know is to endure.

The harbour’s filled with ships to leave,
a ship’s dog anxious on the deck.
As soon they’ll sail, I shall not grieve,
I know one day they’ll all be back.

And one of those ships will be yours,
the wind will bring you home once more,
a seagull guiding you the course,
love to be harboured as before.

Summer heat

If we put the heater on
warm our feet against each other
we could pretend that it is Summer
well it is, but it’s a bummer.
Let’s just put the heater on.

Look, the neighbour’s wearing mittens
and the scarf he got for Christmas.
I shall make some nice hot soup,
let us hug and then regroup.
Let’s just put the heater on.

Took my Winter coat downstairs,
oh how nice that knitted sweater.
I heard someone saw the Sun
they say Summer has begun;
let’s just put the heater on!

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